


hoʻōla

by austen



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Community: kissemdanno, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austen/pseuds/austen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Danny in the moment after a near-loss.  Title means "salvation".</p>
            </blockquote>





	hoʻōla

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChibiRHM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiRHM/gifts).



"I almost lost her tonight." Danny's voice is tight, barely reined in. There's a cut above his eye that's still fresh, red staining his brow, but he doesn't lift a hand to even attempt to swipe it away. He doesn't need to look at Steve, bending down to crack open the first-aid kit, to know that his partner's got an equally nasty cut running along the length of his forearm - one he might need stitches for, but since it might require him to sit still for longer than half a second, Danny guesses he'll end up keeping the scar.

"I know," Steve quietly answers.

Something stings at his forehead and he hisses, glances up at Steve holding a cotton ball now stained with blood ( _his_ blood). All of the emotions he's felt tonight - concern, first, when Rachel had called to tell him that Grace hadn't been picked up from school, and then anxiety, his mind skimming through all the worst-case scenarios like a mental Rolodex, and he could say he's almost forgetting the worse one ( _fear_ ) but that's not true, couldn't be further from the truth, he's just trying to push away the memory of Grace with a gun to her head - and meanwhile, Steve is just standing there like a fucking _zombie_ , poking him with that damn cotton ball and not saying anything, and it all bubbles up inside Danny until his hand snaps up to deflect, smacking Steve's wrist away and rising to his feet.

"No," he says. There's blood on Steve's shirt, too. Danny doesn't even want to dwell on the possibility of how much of it might be his own.

"No, I don't think you get it. I don't think you get that this is not what I signed up for - come to think of it, I didn't sign up at all, did I? I didn't sign up to go into incredibly dangerous situations without back-up, or driven around at breakneck speeds in my own damn car, and I sure as hell didn't sign up to have my daughter kidnapped by Nicaraguans holding a twelve-year grudge against _you_ , because, for some reason, they seemed to think they could get to you through me. I did not sign up for this, because you told me I was your partner from day one, and that was the end of discussion. Well, you know what? I'm re-opening the discussion. We are discussing this. Because I don't think you have a goddamn clue how much I could've lost tonight."

"Of course I have a _clue_. You think I don't know? You think I don't get it?" Steve's voice is rising in volume with every question. Danny doesn't even stop to think about the scene they could be making - hell, half the guys in HPD aren't even batting an eye anymore when they go at it. But there's nothing playful here.

"You don't know the half of what I've lost!" Steve's practically shouting now, but the look in his eyes isn't harsh. There's a stiffness in his shoulders, but it disappears when he drops his gaze to the ground. He stops, doesn't finish his thought, and leaves them both to dwell.

Danny's trying to hold on to his anger, he really is, but he can feel it slipping through his grasp, filtering through and drifting away like grains of sand, and when he focuses in again, it's on the slope of Steve's jaw. There's a cut there, too - smaller, but still deep. Danny leans in, breathes in, exhales tension and relief all in the same beat. Steve's fingertips graze the inside of his hand, the lifelines of his palm.

"They were right," Steve adds.

"What?" It's all Danny can manage.

"They _did_ know how to get to me."

Danny's laugh surprises even himself - a soft, dry chuckle - and winces when the pain of the action reminds of his bruised ribs. And then Steve's there, in his space, holding on to him a little harder now, hand sliding up to his wrist and Danny closes his eyes, turns his forehead against Steve's cheekbone, shuddering and then sighing. _She's alright. We're alright._ There's an apology there, too, an _I'm sorry_ that goes unspoken, voiced instead through Steve's hold on him and the faint brush of lips over his temple when Steve turns his head to look on the wreck of the day behind them.

The sound of the ambulance, two blasts of the siren, takes them out of the moment, and Danny's pocket buzzes as they break away.

"Go," Steve says, nodding to his cell when he takes it out. "She's probably at the hospital by now."

Danny reaches into his pocket again, and there's a jingle as he tosses the Camaro's keys to Steve, flashing him a grin.

"Get us there in double time, babe."


End file.
